


When the Future Meets the Past

by WakeUpDreaming



Category: Scorpion (TV 2014)
Genre: Airplanes, Angst, F/M, Family, Fluff, Pregnancy, Travel, parental angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-09-08 04:34:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8830597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WakeUpDreaming/pseuds/WakeUpDreaming
Summary: The holidays are coming, a December with gentle wind, and Toby's decided to introduce his new family to his old one.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For the lovely Ermanda, livingwithashipname on tumblr. I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> -Your Secret Santa

They wake up early in the morning, early enough that it’s still dark and Toby finds it irresistible to complain about the time. Happy responds with a rather aggressive glare, but he knows it’s because she’s exhausted and tired and hardly sleeps now. Her hair is piled on top of her head and, if he said how pretty he thinks it looks, he knows she’d think he was lying. But god, is she beautiful.

The two rings on her finger glint in the dim, unwelcoming light of their garage, something unnatural and almost toxic in the way it permeates the darkness of the early morning.

“We gotta change that bulb,” Happy mutters. She’s already dozing off again as she tries to fit behind the wheel. “Looks like a murder house in here.”

Toby laughs lightly. “Hap, let me drive.”

Happy gives him a look that would kill him if she wasn’t looking so damned good in his old Harvard hoodie. “Not on your life, Curtis.”

Toby relents, sliding into the passenger’s seat like he’s not waiting for Happy to doze off the second she sits down, but then her own yawn seems to convince her that he’s right.

“I know you’re brilliant,” he says, “but even you can’t drive while asleep.”

She doesn’t even speak to argue – instead, she relents and gets out of the front seat. When they cross each other behind the car, Happy barely fits past him.

“Say something,” she growls. “I dare you.”

“Hey, whoa,” Toby says hands in the air. “Wasn’t going to say anything. I’m smart enough to know when to shut up.”

“Wouldn’t bet on it,” Happy retorts, but he can see the hint of a smile on her sleepy lips.

She’s asleep before they get to the highway, and wakes up only when he pesters her to step out of the car.

“You do it,” she mumbles. “Sleeping.”

“We’re at the airport,” Toby says softly. “Come on, Hap, up you get.”

She mumbles something that isn’t aggressive, really, but it’s the Happy he’s used to when he has to wake her up: unadulterated exasperation.

“Yeah, see, I can’t carry you into the airport,” he says, resting a hand on her shoulder. “That would probably look pretty weird for law enforcement.”

She opens one eye. “Okay, fine. But only until we get to the gate. Then I’m sleeping again.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything differently.” He kisses the top of her head.

Happy banned the word “waddle” after week 20, but Toby still can’t help but pulling that word to the front of his mind as she walks across the airport. She’s got her carry on wheeling behind her, but she finally conceded the fight about the backpack. Even so, her gait is off. He finds it charming.

Then again, his gait is probably none too graceful either, with two backpacks on his shoulders and a carryon wheeling behind him, too.

“Excuse me, Miss, would you like some help with your bags?”

And Toby knows this airline employee is trying to help. Most women would appreciate it. Happy, on the other hand –

“I’m good, dude. Just because I’m building a human inside me doesn’t make me incapable of simple tasks.” As if to prove it, she bends her knees and picks up the carryon by the handle. Toby does his best to reign in his desire to grab it from her.

The airline employee – Toby reads his tag that says Greg – looks a bit flustered.

“I – okay,” he says, blinking a little too rapidly. “Enjoy your flight.”

Toby shoots him a smile. “Have a great day, Greg.”

They end up in TSA pre-check – surprisingly the only perk they get by working with Homeland – but still the line is long, and Happy gets antsy. She won’t even let Toby be the one to haul her bag onto the counter.

“I’ve got it,” she insists. “Pregnant, not impaired. Jeez.”

“Technically –” Toby cuts himself off when Happy points at him in a way that, weirdly enough, reminds him of his mother.

Happy goes silent until the next TSA agent tries to wave her through the scanner. Instead of moving she just stares at them. “You seriously want to put me through that scanner? Do you know what it can do to a developing fetus?” She goes off on the poor TSA agent, and Toby would feel bad for her if he wasn’t so tickled pink that Happy had really listened when he’d talked about how the baby was developing over the past few months.

“We can do a pat down,” the TSA agent says hesitantly. “We understand your concerns.”

Happy scoffs. “Are you six months pregnant and up at five in the morning? Because, if not, you really don’t.”

Toby offers an apologetic smile in the lady’s direction, but she must be a morning person because she manages to smile back and isn’t too aggressive with the pat down.

“I don’t see why we, who work with Homeland, have to go through TSA,” Happy grumbles. “How come we can jump on a military plane in twenty minutes by barely flashing our passports, but when we try to go to New York we have to jump through hoops like everybody else?”

“Commercial flight, maybe?” Toby suggests. “I don’t know. At least we don’t have to do that.” Happy follows his gaze, and Toby feels a pang of sympathy for the long line of people without TSA pre-check, with their shoes and laptops in bins and half an hour to wait.

“My perspective is back,” Happy sighs. “God, I’m tired.”

“It’s part of your charm,” Toby says, but, when he goes to kiss her on the top of the head, she leans away and shoots him a look. “What?” he asks. “Not even a little smooch? I’m pretty sure everybody in the airport knows we’re together, from the rings and the,” he gestures to her belly.

“Fine,” Happy mumbles.

He presses his lips to the top of her head and uses the moment of distraction to swoop both backpacks onto his shoulders and grab the carry ons.

“Was that a ruse?” Happy asks, looking surprised. “Seriously?”

“You underestimate my brilliance,” he says. “Your job is to find our gate and figure out if we’re on time.”

“That way,” Happy says, without even looking. “We went to E5 last year, so D16 has to be down that hallway past the second restrooms.”

Toby blinks. “Sometimes I forget about your visual spatial abilities.”

“You shouldn’t,” Happy scolds. Then, she goes into a voice Toby’s horrified to realize is supposed to imitate him. “You underestimate my brilliance.”

“I don’t sound like that!” he calls after her as she walks away. He chases her awkwardly, bags clonking together on his back and carry ons popping off their wheels, but she slows down pretty quickly.

“Did you forget you loved me?” Toby jokes. Happy grabs their carry ons from him and does that with thing with the handle that makes it so they glide without catching.

“No, but I forgot how annoying you were.” But she’s smiling and she’s with him, so he knows there’s nothing wrong.

Happy’s right – their gate is right where she said it would be. She’s also right about the fact that she was going to fall asleep. She’s out the second she sits down.

“How do you do that?” Toby mutters, settling into the chair next to her. He checks the time on his phone and realizes they have another half hour before they board. He had been right, and they could have left a half hour later, but he’s not one to argue with Happy when it comes to timing.

He fiddles with his phone, then pulls out a book, then puts the book away once he finds himself distracted by a family across the way. They’re at the next gate, a baby in the arms of the father who is singing quietly to the little boy as he claps along. The daughter is on the floor with a coloring book and a handful of chunky crayons. She can’t be more than three, though her expression is curious and focused like an older child, as she colors. He can’t see it from where he’s sitting, but Toby thinks the intent stare is to keep all the colors within the lines.

He wonders how the family came to be, as he’s done with every family since that day in October 3 years before, the first time Happy told him she was pregnant. He creates a profile, a story for all of them. College sweethearts, he’d guess. Married around 25, 26. Baby number one soon after, number two within eighteen months of that. The couple can’t be more than thirty.

He looks over at Happy, whose left hand is resting protectively over her belly.

That family’s story, in Toby’s mind, is different than the story he and Happy are writing right now. He smiles, though – he wouldn’t want anything else.

Happy stirs in her restless sleep, her head slipping down off the back of the chair. Toby slides an arm between her head and the hard arm of the chair, but the jolt is enough that she wakes up.

“What the –?” she mumbles, sitting up. “Oh. Airport. Did I fall asleep?”

“Oh yeah,” Toby replies. “Hey, we’ll be boarding soon. Want me to get something for breakfast?”

Happy stretches without a word, then stands. “I’ll get it.”

“You sure?” Toby asks, before he can stop it. “I can always –”

“Toby, I have to pee,” she says. “You can’t do that for me, unless that’s what your doctoral thesis was on.”

Toby sinks back into his chair. “I did it again, didn’t I.”

Happy smiles and nods at him. “Yeah. Now quit it. I’ll get you a donut or something.”

“Krispy Kreme!” he insists as she walks toward the bathrooms.

A familiar anxiety crawls up his back and settles on his shoulders as he waits. He checks his watch, the clock on his phone, the clock at the gate, because he can’t quell the worry that, just maybe, Happy won’t get back in time.

It’s ridiculous. It’s silly. But he can’t stop it.

His heart leaps a mile when Happy walks back into his line of sight, like he hasn’t seen her in weeks, and she’s giving him a half smile.

“Jeez, excited puppy dog much?” she asks, setting the tray of coffees into Toby’s hands and sitting down next to him.

“I was excited about the coffee,” Toby lies.

“And the donut?”

“Yes, that too.”

They manage a sip or two of coffee and Toby shoves half a donut in his mouth before the woman at the gate calls group one to board, so they pack up the rest of breakfast and head to the line. Everybody sort of moves to let Happy go first, and she looks unreasonably delighted about it.

“I could get used to that part,” she mutters to Toby. “The special treatment is something I can definitely handle for the next three months.”

“Happy Quinn, enjoying attention?” Toby says, feigning shock as they get on the plane. “Is the world spinning in the opposite direction? Has the sun blown out?”

“The sun won’t blow out,” Happy says, searching for their seats. “And anyway, I’m not enjoying the attention. I’m enjoying the perks of being pregnant. People let me go in front of them. And I really hate waiting.”

“God, I know, you’re so impatient,” Toby mutters.

Happy turns to him. “What?”

“What?”

Her eyes narrow. “I’ll let that go if you don’t annoy me the whole plane ride.”

“Can’t promise anything,” Toby admits. “But I’ll try.”

She smiles. “Good enough for me.”

She curls up in her window seat as Toby shoves their bags into the overhead compartments. She always insists on the window seat – eyes locked on the sky outside like she’s memorizing the pattern of the clouds. She puts on headphones and then she’s lost to the world.

Toby’s pretty sure he couldn’t annoy her even if he tried to. But he’s a little annoyed – crammed into a middle seat when this middle aged, cheery woman sits down next to him.

She’s a morning person. This oughta be good.

“Good morning!” she chirps, putting her bag underneath the seat in front of her. “Chilly morning, isn’t it? Let’s hope this plane warms up.”

Toby nods. “Certainly. Though, I think we’re planning to sleep,” he nods over to Happy, “pregnancy takes a lot out of her.”

“I have three of my own,” the woman replies, and Toby’s concerned she’s going to miss his desperate attempt to get some peace and quiet. And then she adds, “so I know how it is. I have the newest Gillian Flynn book, so I’ll be in my own little world for the whole flight.” She smiles at him. “Congratulations, by the way. Parenting is like nothing else. You’re going to love it.”

Toby beams at Happy, who has the tiniest upward curve to her lips. “I know.”

~

The flight is long and Happy has to crawl over Toby and the woman they learn is named Stacie Langdon twice to get to the bathroom, but, other than that, Happy sleeps, Toby works on some overdue reports for Paige, and Stacie sticks to her promise to read. It would be relaxing if not for the fact that they’re squished into the tiny seats of a plane, buckled in like kids in the back seat. But it’s far faster than driving, and it’s not always easy to get a direct flight from LAX to La Guardia during the holidays, so Toby’s considering it a win.

When they disembark, Happy’s lost her grumpiness finally, in a mood suited to talking about the sights. There’s snow on the ground and Toby feels the familiar chill of an East Coast December settle in his skin. But it feels a little different now, like a time gone by.

He takes Happy’s hand, and they take their time as they walk to the car rental station.

“We could just take a taxi,” Toby says for the millionth time, but Happy gives him a look saturated with eye rolls.

“Yeah, and entrust the safety of our unborn child with a stranger’s driving?” She scoffs. “Yeah, I don’t think so.”

He smiles as she picks out the right car, as they get the car, as she drives to their hotel. She can navigate this city better than any cabbie, he thinks, and she’s been here maybe twice in her life. He can’t keep his eyes off of her.

“What?” she asks, catching him when they’re stopped in traffic.

He blinks. “What?”

“You’re doing that staring thing again,” she says suspiciously. “Why are you staring?”

His smile grows. “I like to take you in sometimes.”

“That sounds weird, but I can tell it’s one of your Toby things,” she says, a smile playing across her own lips. “I like you, too.”

They pull into the hotel’s parking garage, a place on the edge of the city with just enough room to have a bit of breathing room, but close enough to have a view. Their room is smaller than their apartment by far but, without all the baby things scattered, it looks bigger.

“Is it weird that all I want to do is take a nap right now?” Toby says. He can usually last on four or five hours of sleep, but today he could sleep for hours in the middle of the day.

“How is it not even three?” Happy mumbles. “I mean, I took a half dozen naps – I should really be awake right now.” She yawns.

“You’re napping for two,” Toby suggests, and it earns him a little smile on Happy’s lips.

“You’ve got a point there,” Happy mumbles. “Let’s just – lay down for a minute.” She flops onto the bed and, despite the baby bump, curls up into a tiny little ball. “You coming?”

They curl around each other in the hotel bed just long enough for Toby to worry they’re losing daylight, and he sits up. “You asleep?”

“No,” Happy mumbles. “If I sleep now, I think I’d be up until midnight.”

“Okay,” Toby says. And then he can’t find the words to come next.

“Are you sure you want to go today?” Happy asks, yawning as she sits up. “We can wait until tomorrow. Go in the morning.”

Toby shrugs. “I mean, I can wait if you don’t want to go tonight.”

Happy looks baffled. “No, I’ll go when you go. Just,” she shrugs, “I want you to be okay.”

Toby’s face breaks into a smile. “Oh, you’re adorable.”

“Don’t –”

“Oh, you love me so much.” He flops down on the bed next to her, beaming up at her. “You’re worrying if I’m okay. God, sometimes I forget that I’m lucky enough to call you my wife and that you love me.”

Happy just raises an eyebrow. “God, you’re weird.”

Toby shrugs. “It’s part of my charm.” They go quiet for a minute before Toby realizes the step that needs to be taken. “I want to go tonight,” Toby says, turning the conversation back. “That way we can spend the rest of the weekend being silly tourists in New York City, holding hands, walking around.” He smiles at her. “Maybe there’ll even be a little bit of snow.”

“It’s the middle of December,” Happy says. “It’ll be freezing even without snow.”

“We can look at the pretty tree,” Toby says. “All tomorrow. No breaks. Just happy, holiday fun.”

“You sure?” Happy asks.

Toby stands, holding a hand out to Happy. “Ready when you are.”

He’s put on a good face for all of this, like it’s not scary, like it’s not a big deal. But it is. He hasn’t been to New York, not in this way at least, in a long time for good reason. It mostly holds heartbreak for him, nothing like the joy he’s found in California and in Happy Quinn.

But he knows he needs this.

Happy insists on driving the rental again, and Toby relents, mainly because he’s not the greatest at driving in the city and he’s jittery enough as it is. Happy ignores all the drivers swearing and swerving, masterfully navigating directions Toby had explained to her a few weeks before over a glass of wine, and he just marvels at how she keeps things in her head.

He’s secretly wishing for a flat tire, though, because, as they get closer, he begins to wonder if this was a good idea. There’s a lot of scars on his history, scars he’s worried he’s going to rip open if this doesn’t heal him like he’s hoping.

But he’s got Happy here, and a constant reminder of their future in front of him all the time.

He’s going to be okay. He’s silent, but he’s okay.

Sooner than he expects they pull up to the cemetery, Happy holding Toby’s hand like she knows how hard this is for him. The Happy of a few years ago wouldn’t know what to do in this moment. The Happy of today is feeling enough for him that it makes him feel like he can do this. She has his back. And he has hers. Forever.

Happy parks the car in the middle of the cemetery without a word, hand still in Toby’s. They only break apart as they exit the vehicle.

When Toby walks up to her gravestone, his free hand is shaking. He hasn’t been here in years – not since the day before he moved out to California.

It feels like a ghost of the past. It feels like coming home.

“Hi, Mom,” he manages. “This is Happy.”

He talks and talks like it’s being drawn out of him, unsure if his mother can hear it but glad that Happy can and does. He tells her all about the man he’s become, about his wedding to Happy and the excitement they have of their future. He tells her about all the times they’ve been willing to die for each other, and all the times they’ve forced themselves to survive for each other.

Happy’s hand never leaves his, but she never speaks, either. He appreciates it – he’s lived a long time trying to fight for a chance to say his piece. He never feels silenced with her.

“It’s a girl,” he says, feeling himself wind down. “We’re naming her after you, and Happy’s mom. Margaret’s not the greatest first name in this day and age, but we thought it would make a great middle name.” Happy squeezes his hand. “Her first name is going to be Grace. Grace Margaret Quinn-Curtis.” He smiles. “I’m going to call her Gracie every day of her life, though. My little Gracie.”

Happy leans against him, a gesture so unlike her and so profoundly for Toby that it almost throws him off. But he lets himself feel it. He’s lived so long feeling the need to fight everyone before they can get a chance to push him away. And now Happy’s here, at the grave of the only other person who seemed to care about him in his life, and she’s letting him do all the talking. But she’s taking care of him in her own way.

“You’d love her, Mom,” he says, so quiet it’s almost a whisper. “She’s the kind of badass you always thought I needed to take me down a few pegs.”

Happy laughs, the first noise she’s made in ages. “You got that right.”

The moment fades into silence, the two of them looking at Toby’s mother’s grave as they let the reality of their lives fade over them. Toby thought he was going to be a father twice before – once, when he was twenty-one and too young to even process it (she wasn’t pregnant), and then the first time they thought Happy was pregnant (she wasn’t pregnant either.)

And now she is – the rounded belly under Toby’s favorite sweater proves it. He’s going to be a father. There’s going to be a tiny human, his baby daughter, who depends on him more than anybody else in this world has. And he had to talk to his mother before it was truly real. Because, as a dumb kid, he used to joke that the only reason he’d have kids is to make his mom a grandmother.

She’ll never be a grandmother, he muses. At least, not really. She’s been gone for so long it’s almost like she never even got to be a mother.

“You okay?” Happy says quietly, squeezing Toby’s hand.

He smiles at her. “Yeah,” he sighs, feeling content for the first time ever standing at his mother’s grave, “yeah, Happy.” He leans over to kiss her, and she doesn’t pull away. When he leans away, just far enough to look into her eyes, he adds, “I’m doing great.”


End file.
